What Happens in Rio
by flowerchild3286
Summary: Payson and Sasha's professional relationship is based on stubbornly maintained denial. What happens when something disrupts their careful balance?
1. What Happens in Rio

Hello all! I know that it has been forever since I posted on here, but I have actually been writing. Unfortunately I have a work schedule that doesn't lend itself to writing time, though, so what I write is sometimes few and far between. Hence, no posting for a really long time :( Hope you enjoy this!

* * *

Payson usually hated breaking the rules, but for once she found herself not minding. She was a World Champion—for team, at least, and with a shot at the All Around—and she had a boyfriend for the first time since she was six years old. Both of those things needed to be celebrated, so she let Max talk her into staying out past curfew. It wasn't like they were going to suspend her at Worlds, anyway. She had four more finals to compete in, and they wanted the medals that she might win.

Of course, her confidence in her spot on the team evaporated as soon as she turned the corner and saw Sasha. When actually faced with the prospect of getting caught, every single possible repercussion flooded to the front of her mind.

She started to turn back around and sneak away, but she noticed that Sasha was having a hard time getting into his room and curiosity got the better of her.

He tried sliding his key half a dozen times before muttering, "Bollocks!" and slumping against the doorframe. Something was definitely not right. She hesitated, thinking of how much trouble she could get in for being out of her room, but helping Sasha was worth it.

She approached him cautiously. "Sasha? Is something wrong?"

He turned his head toward her and stated, "You're not supposed to be out right now." There was absolutely no accusation in his voice, no anger or indication that she was in trouble. It was almost like he was narrating the situation.

"Well, I am, and you are obviously having trouble getting into your room. What's going on?"

"The bloody key won't work," he said, holding up the offending card. She moved closer to take the key from him, and in the process got a clear explanation of his strange behavior. He reeked of alcohol.

"Sasha, what on earth possessed you to get drunk while we're in the middle of competition at Worlds?" she scolded. At the moment she felt like she was the coach in the situation, and she had new appreciation for the frustration that Sasha felt when they broke the rules.

He was oblivious to her ire. "I am not drunk. I had a couple of drinks with some friends from Romania... or a few drinks... I lost count. But I am not drunk."

She slipped the key in the door and it immediately clicked unlocked, so she swung the door open and offered the card back to him as proof of his inebriety. "The key works fine, Sasha. I think you were putting it in the wrong way."

He frowned down at the key. "Maybe I am drunk."

"There's no maybe about it. Come in and sit down before you fall down." He didn't look unsteady on his feet, but she didn't want to risk anything.

He followed her orders without question. She thought she might actually like this side of Sasha; it made her feel powerful, at the very least.

She grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge in his room and screwed the top off before she sat down next to him on the couch. "Here, let's get something besides alcohol in your system."

He took the water, but something of his normal nosiness shone through. "So what were you doing out of your room this late?"

She was reasonably certain at this point that he wasn't going to punish her, so she felt a little more at ease giving a teasing answer. "I was breaking the rules, so what makes you think I'm going to be explicit about it?"

"Ah, let me guess... Max." She had no idea that he was aware of that relationship, although she guessed she hadn't been very discreet lately. Sasha continued, "He's a wanker, you know. Not worthy of you."

She fought down a laugh, which morphed into a snort. Rather than addressing what was obviously a real issue of Sasha not liking Max, she tried to keep the conversation light hearted. She didn't want to end up in an argument with a drunk Sasha. "So who, in your opinion, _is_ worthy of me?"

"I don't know. Probably nobody. Certainly nobody I've met so far. Definitely not me."

Payson sat stock-still. Sasha didn't seem to realize that he'd said anything unusual, but Payson was drowning in emotions and confusion. She thought she'd put all of her feelings for him behind her, but now she realized that she'd just been suppressing them, and at this one tiny hint they refused to be suppressed any longer. She tried (unsuccessfully) to act nonchalant. "And you've thought about that before, whether or not you're worthy of me?"

"It didn't take much thought," he said. "You're the most amazing woman I've ever met, and I'm a washed up thirty two year old with a bad past. I don't even come close to deserving you."

Outside of his initial battle with the door, Sasha didn't seem very intoxicated. His speech wasn't slurred, he didn't look disoriented, and he was making complete sense. She had somehow caught him at the magic level of drunkenness that left him talking coherently, but without any of his regular inhibitions. She warred with herself about how to respond—run away, take advantage of the situation, or try to get them both out of it as gracefully as possible.

The last option was the only realistic one, the only one that wouldn't leave her hating herself. Tears sprang to her eyes as she realized that maybe she was better off before, when she believed that Sasha had no interest in her, because knowing and not being able to do anything about it was incredibly painful.

She allowed herself the brief intimacy of placing her hand against his cheek, knowing that she would never have another chance to be so open with him. "You're not washed up, Sasha, and your past is just that... in the past. I love who you are now, not who you'd be if any of those things were different."

This was the second time in a week that the word 'love' had tumbled out of her mouth with no thought beforehand, but only the first time it was true. She loved the idea of Max—of a normal boyfriend who thought she was beautiful and chased after her—but she didn't really love _Max_. He was nice and fun to be with, but he wasn't the person who understood her on every level, or the person who she completely clicked with. Sasha filled that role, and he had for a long time.

He reached over and brushed away a tear that she didn't realize had fallen. "I'm sorry. I've made you cry."

She shook her head but clutched at his hand before he drew it away. "It's not you. It's the situation."

"What can I do to make it better?" he asked, shifting closer to her on the couch. His complete sincerity broke her. She choked back a sob and leaned against his shoulder, just wanting to be closer to him while she could. Far from pushing her away, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her tighter against him. "I never meant for you to fall in love with me. I thought if I could just watch you be happy then that would be enough for me, but now I'm the reason you're unhappy."

"How long?" she asked. "How long have you felt this way?"

"Just a few days after I came to Boulder. I was standing with you in the gym and you were arguing with me about your beam dismount, and all of a sudden I realized that I would rather be there fighting with you than anywhere else on earth. I've been in love with you almost as long as I've known you."

She pulled back to meet his eyes. "Then why did you push me away?"

"Because I was supposed to." There was a slight pause before he added, "And because I was completely sober when it happened."

Was he saying—? She was scared to even hope, because the disappointment would be crushing if she was wrong, but she would probably never get another chance. Fate had given her this rare opportunity, and she had to be brave enough to take it. She leaned closer, but just to be certain she whispered, "Do me a favor, Sasha, and don't push me away this time."

She took his silence as agreement, so she pressed her lips to his. Unlike the last time she kissed him, he pressed his lips firmly against hers and pulled her tight against him. Payson's heart started to pound so hard that she thought it would explode, and then, when Sasha deepened the kiss, it did. With that one single kiss, Payson's heart shattered into a million pieces that would never go back quite the same.

When Sasha leaned her back against the couch, she reached whole new levels of pleasure. To have their whole bodies touching, to have his weight pressed against her chest, it was ecstasy. She never wanted it to end, and it felt like it never would.

Their hands roamed freely over each other's bodies, but when Sasha's fingers slipped beneath the hem of Payson's shirt to rest on bare skin, she had to do some serious self-evaluation. Sasha had done _this_ many, many times before, but Payson had only had a few chaste kisses in her entire life. How far was this going to go? How far did she _want_ it to go?

Obviously Sasha wasn't completely intoxicated, because he only moved his hand up a few inches on her waist before stopping. Knowing that he wasn't going to continue made her realize that she wanted him to. This wasn't some random hook up at a party, or even losing it to a boyfriend just because that was what teenagers are expected to do. This was Sasha, the man she loved, the man who loved her, and this opportunity might not come around again. The next day they would have to go back to pretending that they weren't in love with each other, so she wanted the memory of this night to hold on to.

She emboldened herself to place her hand over his and slide it across her rib cage and up to her breast. Sasha actually pulled away from her in surprise and stared at her as if she'd grown a second head. She tried to convey everything that she was feeling with her eyes, because she didn't think she could say it with words—that she loved him, that she wanted her first time to be with him, that she would treasure this night for the rest of her life.

In tribute to how well they really did understand each other, he seemed to know exactly what she was saying. He gave the barest hint of a nod before kissing her once and saying, "I love you, Payson."

He took her hand and led her over to the bed, but she stayed standing for a brief moment. "Sasha, I love you, and there isn't a single molecule in my body that wants this to stop, but I need to make sure you understand something." She felt like, with Sasha being drunk, she needed to be explicit rather than take the chance that he didn't fully comprehend the situation. "I've never done this before. This will be my first time."

His lips tilted up into a smile. "I don't think I'm quite as drunk as you think I am. I'm very aware that you're a virgin. It's one of the many reasons I use on a daily basis to convince myself that I can't have you."

"So, just how drunk are you?" she asked.

"I'm sober enough to know that we shouldn't do this, but drunk enough not to care."

A grin spread over her face. "The perfect amount, then," she said before kissing him and pulling him down onto the bed.

o-O-o

Sasha woke up to a strange combination of comfort and discomfort. His head ached and his mouth was dry and cottony, but there was a warm weight against him that lulled him into contentment. He'd almost decided that the contentment was winning out when the weight shifted.

A smooth, muscular leg slid against his and a memory flashed into his mind of him slipping a pair of jeans off of those legs, quickly followed by visions of every other part of that body—and what a body it was. This was the body he dreamed about every night, but in far greater detail than he had ever known before. An image of a face swam to the front of his mind and his heart started to race. This was _literally_ the body he dreamed about every night. This was Payson!

He opened his eyes a hair's width, afraid to make eye contact with Payson before he was ready. When he saw that she was still asleep, he allowed himself to open his eyes the rest of the way. God, she was beautiful.

He took a moment to re-live the night before so that he could understand how this had happened. He'd had a little too much to drink, which was something he almost never allowed himself to do anymore, and she'd been out late, which was something _she_ never did, and somehow they'd come together. As sappy as it sounded, it felt like this was meant to be. The chances of everything happening in perfect sequence to have them end up in bed together... there was no way it was a coincidence.

He wanted to stay and watch her sleep, but he was driven out of bed by an overwhelming need to brush his teeth. He was glad he didn't drink any more than he did. He had a rare chance to spend the morning in bed with Payson, and he didn't want to waste that being hung over.

He brushed his teeth and took a couple of aspirin, and by the time he came out of the bathroom Payson was awake. She smiled up at him and teased, "I thought for a minute that you'd run out on me."

"Never." He sat down next to her and brushed her tangled hair back. "No regrets?"

She shook her head and echoed his own words. "Never. I am a little worried about your memory, though. Do you actually remember everything that happened last night?"

"Every—single—glorious—second," he told her, punctuating his words with kisses to her neck and shoulders. "And I definitely remember that you said you loved me."

"I meant it. I do love you." She reached up to kiss him and then dragged him further into the bed with her.

He remembered something else from the night before: Payson had gotten a lot bolder as the night wore on. At the beginning there had been an air of uncertainty about her, even when she was making bold moves, but at some point she became much more confident in herself and her love making. When she rolled him onto his back and climbed on top of him, she gave no indication that she was a virgin six hours ago.

Later, when they laid panting side by side, reality came crashing back to him. As much as he didn't want to say it, he also didn't want to lie to Payson anymore. "Payson, you do realize that this can't happen when we get back to Boulder, don't you?"

"Yeah, I know," she sighed. "So what happens in Rio stays in Rio?"

There was no tone of humor to the joke, and Sasha answered it with equal gravity. "At least for a little while. You'll be eighteen in nine months. We can be together then."

She rolled onto her side to look at him, and despite having just been told that they had to spend the next nine months apart, she had a grin on her face. "But we still have nearly a week left in Rio, right? And this is perfectly legal in Brazil."

"What exactly are you proposing? Having as much sex as humanly possible as long as we're in South America?"

Even though he was joking, she answered, "Yes, that is _exactly_ what I'm proposing. If we're barely going to be able to touch each other until June, then we need to make as many memories as possible to get us through all those lonely nights."

As appealing as that idea was, there was still one big problem. "Did you happen to remember that you still have three days of competition left? You can't be staying up all night."

She dismissed his concern. "So we actually go to sleep each night; that doesn't mean we can't have some fun before or after we sleep. Just think of it as conditioning." Her cheeky grin did him in. He wanted this as much as she did. They only had a short time together, and he didn't want to waste a single second of it.

"Okay, you're right. If what happens in Rio stays in Rio, let's make the most of the time we have. And we have a date for June 17th."


	2. 9 Months Later

This is the slightly more reasonable alternative to what I first imagined in my head. The less reasonable version involved a shotgun wedding in Rio and hiding a marriage for a year ;)

* * *

Payson knocked on Sasha's door with a little bit of trepidation. She was probably more nervous for this date than she was the first time they slept together, because she'd spent months building it up in her head.

Of course, she'd also spent months building a real relationship with Sasha, so that helped her nerves. In the absence of any possibility of sex, they had spent hours upon hours just talking, getting to know each other in a way they hadn't allowed themselves to do before Rio. They loved each other more than ever.

Sasha answered the door, and she could tell immediately that he was just as nervous as she was. She shook her head and chuckled. "We are such idiots."

Sasha smiled in response. "I know. I've been this way all day and I don't even know why."

"I know why," she said as they moved inside his apartment. "It's because we've spent every night since we left Rio thinking about today, about how amazing it's going to be. Now that it's actually here, we're worried that it's not going to live up to expectation."

He slinked his arms around her waist and pulled her against his chest. "You're right about part of that—I have been thinking about tonight for months, and I have built up a lot of expectation, but there is no way that us being together won't live up to those expectations. We are going to be amazing together."

His reassurance made her feel better. "You're right, Sasha. I love you, and tonight is going to be amazing."

"I love you, too, Payson." They kissed, and all of her anxiety melted away. They were so good together, so _right_ together.

Payson took his hand and led him to his bedroom, then paused in front of the bed. She remembered doing to same thing their first night together in Rio, but this time there was no doubt in her mind. She had a purpose.

She started to open the row of buttons down the front of her dress, and Sasha caught on and joined her until she let the dress drop around her feet. Beneath it she was wearing a white lace corset, chosen specially for this night. Even though she wasn't a virgin and they weren't married, this felt an awful lot like a wedding night.

Sasha was speechless, staring at her with a mixture of awe and arousal that she hadn't seen so strongly since the first time they made love in Rio. She'd hoped it would affect him like this. When he kissed her again, it was with unrelenting fervor.

His prediction had been right—they were every bit as good together as she'd been dreaming of for so many months. Better, even, because she'd forgotten just how right it felt being connected with him on that level.

It was a night to rival their last night in Rio, when they'd been driven into a frenzy of passion by the knowledge of their coming separation. Now, though, it was nine months worth of pent up desire that was driving them to new heights.

When they ventured out of bed, they ate dinner naked on the couch, something that she would never have been confident enough to do the first time they were together. They had each other for dessert.

It was late into the night before they slowed down long enough to have an important conversation. As she laid draped on top of Sasha, Payson asked, "We've got another year until the Olympics, so what's our plan? How are we going to handle this?"

"Obviously we've already ruled out waiting until after it's over," he joked. Waiting until after London had never really been an option; waiting until her eighteenth birthday had been hard enough. "You could just move in here with me and we could spend every night like this."

That part was _not_ a joke, and she loved that he really wanted her to live with him, but it wasn't realistic. "That sounds wonderful, but it's not very subtle. I'm pretty sure me moving in here would lead to a bunch of people finding out about us and you getting fired as the National Team Coach."

He accepted her reasoning and asked, "What do you think we should do?"

"Maybe I should get an apartment of my own," she suggested. The more she thought about it, the more she liked the idea. "We can spend some nights here and some there, but when we need to pretend to be normal single people we'd have separate places to go."

He agreed, but with a stipulation of his own. "Let's just try to make sure that the times we need to be single people are _very_ rare. I've spent more than enough night without you already."

"I can definitely get on board with that plan. I don't want to spend any more nights without you, either." She paused as something occurred to her. "So I guess this is real now. We're officially a couple."

He chuckled. "Yes, a secret couple, but a couple nonetheless. You, Payson Keeler, are my girlfriend now, and I plan on keeping it that way."

"Not forever, I hope," she said, grinning down at him. "I'd like to think that one day I'll be your fiancé or your wife."

"That can definitely be arranged."

She hadn't set out to plan their future together, but somehow it had happened anyway, and there was nothing more to be said for the moment. All of the important stuff had been covered, and they had the rest of their lives to talk. Instead, they spent the rest of the night speaking with actions instead of words.


End file.
